The Ghost King
by Hestia's Legacy
Summary: How can he live, when his past, present, and future is haunted by death? How can he laugh, when his heart is scarred by tragedy and his mind corrupted by sadness? And how can he possibly love, when he knows that whomever bears the curse of his love will be plagued with calamity? A series of oneshots about our favorite son of Hades, Nico di Angelo.
1. Jealousy

**Well, I got in a really bad mood these weeks and decided to vent some of my depression by writing this.**

Jealousy

He scowls as he watches the people around him.

He hates them.

The arrogant, prideful people who think they're so much better than him. He can tell from the pitying, disgusted, condensing looks they give him.

And he hates it.

But maybe the real reason why he hates it so much is because they're _right._ They _are_ better than he is. They have everything. He has nothing. They have, happy, good, full lives at their fingertips, real friends who actually care, and a loving family.

Everything he once had.

Everything he had lost.

And what did he have now?

He has a shadow of a life, he has double-crossing, manipulating, _fake _friends, and he had a mother and sister and father. Had. His sister chose to leave him and then got herself killed, his mother died, and after his mother's death, his father stopped being a father, instead becoming a cold, cruel, uncaring ruler.

He has _nothing_.

And as he watches those people who are _better than him, _he realizes, maybe the reason he hates them is because he's jealous of them.

For having what he had.

For having what he will never have again.


	2. Fire

**Second update today. This one is way more depressing, though.**

Fire

He hisses as the knife cuts through his flesh. A burning sensation courses through him. The pain fills his every thought, and _gods, _it's so _different _from his usual lack of emotions, that feared, hated, _dreaded _emptiness inside him, and as he sees red falling to the cold, hard, unforgiving obsidian floor, he realizes that he _likes_ this burning, this fire.

He _loves _this fire, this sudden rush of exhilaration, of _p__ain, _this striking, brilliant red against a background of black.

The pain feels so _good, _and so different from his usual lack of feeling, and he feels so very _alive_, and it seems impossible to stop this _amazing _sensation.

So he doesn't.

Each night, alone in the dark, he _lives_. And the pain becomes his drug, his life. His body becomes marred with scars, and a small part of his mind tells him that this is pathetic, and to think, just for a minute, about how he could possibly have let himself _sink so deep _into this murky pool of pain and death and lies and _emptiness. _

He doesn't care, not even when that annoying part of his brain tells him that this is an abominable and desperate act, and that the pain is _not worth it, _and if he continues, he will _die_.

Why should he care?

He was dead anyway. The burning was the only thing that kept him alive. It chased away the dreaded emptiness, if only temporarily, and as the tantalizing wave of pain crashes over him, he thinks, _This is definitely worth it._

And the europhia of that discovery sends him over the edge, from madness to full, complete, total insanity.

He laughs, a demented, possessed, _empty _laugh, and slides the cold obsidian blade across his skin for what seems like the millionth time, and laughs again, enjoying the sound of ripping skin and flesh much, much more than he should, and as red stains his vision, he wants_ more, _and as the fire rages through him, he feels so _alive_.

But the fire is fading, slowly but steadily. In it's place comes a numbness, that dreaded emptiness, and wherever it goes, he can't feel _anything,_ and as those brilliant sparks of fire are chased away by numbness, he realizes what is happening.

And as those final sparks of life fly from his horribly scarred body, he could almost hear the _snip _of his life string finally being cut_._

How ironic that the fire that brought him to life also delivered him to death.

**I'll update again if I get 5 reveiws.**


	3. Children

**Wow. That was way faster than I expected. Thanks to all the reviewers!**

**And just so you guys know, I might change some of the events in the book to fit the mood of the oneshot. Which is probably always going to be sad or depressed in some way.  
**

Children

These people around him, he thinks in disdain, are all children. Even though some of them are older than him, they are still mere children in his eyes. They are silly, naive, delusional, gullible, and just plain _stupid. _Exactly like children.

And every day, surrounded by these foolish children, in order to "blend in", he pretends to be one of them.

Despite the fact that a _child _is the one thing he's not.

No _child _has seen their mother die right in front of them.

No _child _has stood by helplessly as their mother fell to the ground, and lie there, unmoving and blank, and most of all, _dead._

No _chi__ld _has had their sister, their only family, tell them she chose to leave them to join a band of partially immortal teenage girls (The Hunters. What a stupid name).

No _child_ has ever experienced the intense, crippling pain of hearing that their sister died fighting for those so-called _Hunters._

No _child_ has plotted murder to save their traitor of a sister, who they still love so much, too much.

No _child_ has ever had to see a chance to bring their stupid, selfish, beloved sister back and force themselves not to.

Indeed, Nico di Angelo is anything but a child.

Because children are happy.

He isn't.

Children are loved.

He isn't.

And children are _innocent._

He most certainly isn't.

He knows that some monsters can never be defeated.

He knows that there are some prisons that you can never escape from.

He knows that not every story has a happy ending.

And now that he's no longer a child, he knows that no one will be able to save him from the monster that is part of himself.

He knows that he will never be able to escape from the prison that is his endless pain and longing.

And he knows that his story, his twisted, corrupted, convoluted story will definitely not have a happy ending.

He watches the children around him, playing and joking and laughing, and being so happy and loving and innocent.

And just for a moment, all he wants is to be a child.

**This time, I'll update again if I get 10 more reviews.**


	4. Sinking

**Thanks for all the reviews, people! You guys are awesome.**

**I'm really sorry for not updating sooner, but I found out what writer's block was- the hard way.**

**And then, I was listening to Hatsune Miku's Deep-Sea Girl (AMAZING song), and suddenly I got inspiration for this, and my writer's block went away.**

**So, here: Chapter 4:**

Sinking

He recalls a memory from a time long ago, when he was sitting on lush, soft green grass with his family, staring into a sparkling sapphire lake. The scene was so different from what he was used to now, it felt like a wisp of a dream. Recollections from another life.

Had he ever really once felt so free?

Had he ever really known how it felt to be loved?

Had he ever really felt so... _good?_

Yes. He believes he has.

Perhaps it was just a silly delusion, a hallucinated ray of light shining through his unending world of darkness. But he tries to reach it, because it was the only thing that gave him hope.

That at one point, he had a good life.

That this world wasn't full of horror and pain and despair.

That he would escape the endless depths of this new lake he was sinking into.

This lake full of lies and deception, growing larger and larger, fed by a river poisoned by mistakes and regrets._  
_

This lake he created.

This lake he was sinking in.

Each minute, he sinks deeper and deeper, until it seems he'll be sinking forever.

Each day, that desperate shard of hope is broken again and again, until it seems it will become so small, he will no longer be able to see it.

Each year, that single ray of light is getting further and further, until it seems that one day, it will completely disappear.

And as he sinks, he wishes he had the strength to swim back up.

But he doesn't.

He wishes he can go back in the past and correct his mistakes.

But he can't.

And above all, he wishes someone would care enough to save him from this deep, vast lake of remorse, sorrow, and anguish.

But no one does.

And so he sinks endlessly, and as he does, he thinks in despair, _Why won't anyone save me?_

**Hmm. I don't think it's as good as the others... I'll do better next time.**

**Remember, people- five reviews = update, more than five reviews = quicker update. Although how much quicker depends on how many more.**


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